Chapter 3

Jessi

The nerve of that asshole! Who the fuck did he think he was? He came at me during dinner like nothing had ever happened. Like he’d stuck the fuck around and hadn’t disappeared off the face of the damn planet for a year and a half! And what was all that shit about not wanting to talk about it? That rat bastard didn’t have a damn choice! He promised me his entire fucking future then left me high and dry. And not knowing I wanted to be a model? Had he actually been that clueless about me the entire time?

Damn. I’d given him everything, including risking my relationship with my brother, and with my family. I risked my budding career to be with him. I leaned on his promises and allowed myself to dream about us rising to the top and owning the modeling industry.

And the fucker didn’t even know I wanted to become a damn model.

I was livid walking back into the house after that date. It was a good thing that Caleb was already sleeping, so he wouldn’t hear me throwing my damn heels around. I hurt. Just as much as the night he stood me up in that fucking restaurant. Just as much as the morning I found out from my brother that he was gone.

Vanished.

Disappeared.

Without a word to me, like I didn’t mean shit.

But he had meant something to me. Every time he’d come over to play with Justin, every time the two of them would hang out in the yard, I couldn't take my eyes off him. He was commanding and adventurous. Loud and unassuming. He took everything in stride and was fiercely loyal to his family and his friends. My little schoolgirl crush had blossomed into a full-fledged fucking love affair with a guy that I never dreamed would ever look my way.

Until he did.

The night I gave him my virginity was forever etched into my mind. His quiet commands and light praises in my ear. How he called me his sweet girl and softly pinned my wrists above my head. He was swift with what he took, but never forceful. He knew what he wanted and when someone wanted to give it to him.

And fuck, did I ever want to give it to him.

Now, I was nervous to see him in the morning. The kiss we shared in the parking lot after dinner brought back memories that stirred me as I slept. I woke up with sweat on my brow and an ache between my legs that I had to will away with a cold shower. I would not allow my body to fully cave to him. That would blur the lines of what I was doing.

Because I wasn’t out to reconcile with him. I was out to hurt him.

He had put me through hell. Nights spent sobbing in a bathtub and drenching my pillow in snot. Days spent wondering where he could have gone and what he could have been doing. I made so many excuses as to why he had to leave. I told myself that something with his career must have happened. A last minute gig that would catapult us both to the top. I told myself he was simply on vacation. Taking some time to himself before he would come back for me. I had visions of how he was off gallivanting around, carving out a career both of us could excel in before coming back, scooping me off my feet, and taking me along for the ride.

But the days, weeks and months passed and he never showed.

And the damn pregnancy test happened.

Now I was going to get him back for what he had put me through, no matter what it took. I was going to let him get wrapped up in me. I was going to let him think he stood a second chance. I was going to play right into his hand and forge some sort of stupid connection he thought we still had. Then I was going to break his heart. I would leave him high and dry just like he left me.

Then we would see how he liked it.

The nanny arrived before Caleb woke up, so I went into his room and gave him a little kiss. I looked down into his face, trying to ignore how much he looked like Chris. It had taken me weeks to look at my child without crying. Weeks to look at him and smile without thinking of Chris. His leaving had tainted the best thing that had ever happened to me. I had cried more tears over my son than I cared to admit, and Chris was the reason for that.

He nearly ripped the happiness of my motherhood away from me, and for that he would pay.

I pressed one last kiss to my son’s cheek before I headed out the door.

***

This time we were at the event center watching the runway be built right before our very eyes.

“I thought we wouldn’t be practicing on the runway,” one girl said.

“Maybe that hot choreographer saw our side of things,” another said.

“He really is a hunk. Have you seen his arms? I can only imagine what’s underneath those clothes.”

“His arms? I’m more focused on his pants. Did you see that bulge yesterday?”

“He got so close to me during makeup that I could feel his breath on my neck. I almost turned and kissed him.”

The girls kept giggling over how hot Chris was, which made my plan even better. When I revealed to all of them that Chris was the father of my child, they would shit themselves. Their faces would fall when they figured out Chris enjoyed a woman with a little more love to give. Then his face would fall when I told him he had no place in my life.

No place in either of our lives.

I hated being around the chatty models of the world. That was the pain in the ass part of my career. They were all fake bitches who smiled like the snakes they were before popping up and nipping at you with their venomous bites. Some of these women, like the ones chattering on about Chris, were the worst of their kind. They would smile at you while pushing you in front of a bus if it meant scoring a gig they wanted. These women were ruthless. The worst kind of backstabbers.

Chris was in good company with them.

I was thankful that my best friend wasn’t a model. Megan was much more laid back than these women I was surrounded with on a daily basis. She was a cameraman on sets of some of the biggest blockbuster movies to hit over the past couple of years, and I loved catching up with her and hearing about all the juicy celebrity gossip. Some of the stories were hilarious and made me watch her movies in a completely different way. Other stories didn’t shock me at all, and we would invariably get into a conversation about how much most of the women in our industries sucked.

“All right, girls. Places. We’re going to put on some heels and skirts and try the choreography on the runway.”

“I’d like to try him on the runway,” one of the girls said.

“What was that?” Chris asked.

“She said she wants to try you on the runway!” I said.

The girl shot me a nasty look and I giggled as she walked away. I shot a glance back to Chris and he was shaking his head, but I could see his shoulders moving. Another point on the scoreboard for me. Anytime I could get him laughing it meant I was slowly pulling him back into my orbit. Backing him into an unassuming corner before I struck.

The music came on as I was fiddling with my heels. I rolled my ankles a bit to loosen them up, then stretched before I positioned myself to walk down the structure that had been built. My hips swayed, my hand was on my hip, and the twirls Chris had walked us through were effortless for me. I made sure my skirt bellowed a little more and that my hair swung around my shoulders. I eyed him carefully as I turned to go back, and I could feel his eyes lingering on my ass.

We went through the choreography four separate times before we were all released. I was thankful for the short day because six in the morning was not my thing. I slipped my feet out of the heels and sighed with relief, massaging them with my hands as the girls walked by me.

They kept shooting me dirty looks, which only fueled my desire to piss them off even more.

“You looked good out there,” Chris said.

I turned my head at the sound of his voice.

“Some of those girls thought you did, too,” I said.

“What did you think?” he asked.

“That you need to stop staring at my ass.”

“And what if I don’t want to?”

“Then enjoy breaking the hearts of all those women, too,” I said.

“I didn’t enjoy anything that happened, Jessi.”

“Ah, so there’s still some lingering guilt. I didn’t make that comment to take a jab at you. But the fact that you took it that way is telling.”

“What, so now you’re a model and a psychologist?”

“Women can do anything nowadays,” I said, with a grin.

“Speaking of anything, I was wondering if you were free tonight.”

“Couldn’t get enough last night?” I asked.

“I’ve never been able to get my fill of you. You know that.”

“So what were you proposing we do tonight?” I asked.

“Depends. Are you agreeing to it?”

“Not if you want to take me up to the Hollywood sign and throw me off it, no.”

“What kind of dates have you been on recently?” he asked.

“None. I’ve been focusing on my career. Which is why you need to make it worth my while. I’m not going to date the choreographer and put my career in the crosshairs unless it’s for something good.”

“Date, huh? Are we already jumping ahead to dating?”

“With the way you’re acting, it seems as if we never stopped,” I said.

“Fair enough. I was thinking drinks. At my place. You know, since you’re so squirrely about me coming to yours.”

“The last thing I need is you showing up in the middle of the night begging for me because you can’t get enough.”

“Oh, I don’t beg. Ever.”

I looked up into his eyes and saw that fire ignite behind them. I knew exactly what he had planned for tonight. A little bit of drinking, a little bit of talking in a dimly lit room. Possibly taking a seat on his couch. He’d get comfortable and his hand would start wandering, and soon we wouldn’t be able to peel our bodies away from one another.

But he had another thing coming if he thought that was all it would take.

“Your place it is,” I said. “Any specific time?”

“How about right now?”

“I’m going to need a nap if I’m going to deal with you,” I said.

“Deal with me? I’m hurt, Jes.”

“Get used to it,” I said, with a grin.

No really, you fucker. Get used to it.

“I like the sound of that. How about I get your number and I can text you my address.”

“I guess I could do that,” I said, playfully.

Rattling off my number, he sent me a text with his address. We set a time for six that evening, then I watched him walk away. That gave me time to go home and spend time with Caleb before going back out again tonight. It would also give my nanny a break so she wasn’t working two long days back to back.

After all, I wasn’t going to neglect the care of my son simply to get back at Chris. My son came first. Always.

I went home and cuddled him in my arms, trying to forget about the evening ahead. I laid with him on the couch as he rested on my bosom, my hand cradling his head. He was so small. Eight months was hardly enough time to learn how to maneuver his body, much less process the world around him. I’d read every baby book I could get my hands on when I was pregnant with him, and modeled in every gig I could take until I started showing. I was determined to make a better life for us. Determined to build a life my son could be proud of. I was driven to give him everything he could possibly need to succeed, whether I had to compromise myself to do it or not.

But this—getting even with Chris was for me. It would give me closure, it would stop my mind from wondering about him, and it would thrust us forward into a better life. A life without regrets and a life without questions. My son deserved that.

After all Chris put me through, I deserved that.

I laid Caleb down in his crib for the evening before I went to go get ready. I wasn’t dressing up like I had the night before. A cute pair of skinny jeans, a tight shirt that showed off my curves, and a sensible pair of heels was all I’d need for the night. A little splash of makeup and a little fluff of my hair, and I was ready to go. Men like Chris, driven by bodies more than minds, were easy to get to. Their walls were easy to erode. They played themselves up to be strong, but they were the easiest thing in the world to figure out.

A little shimmy and a little shake, and they were drooling dogs in my lap.

I left extra money on the counter for my nanny, despite her protests. Then I grabbed my things, headed for my car and left for my appointment with Chris. I entered the address into my GPS and let it guide me to his home, shocked when I pulled up to it. He was obviously doing well for himself if he could afford such a place. A two-story beachfront condo with windows on all sides of the first floor that overlooked the beauty of the ocean.

And there he was. Standing on his porch with a glass of wine in his hand.

“I see you found the place all right.”

“I see you make a lot more money than you let on,” I said.

“I do well for myself,” Chris said.

“I think ‘well’ is talking it down a bit.”

Walking up to where he was standing, I accepted the glass of wine he handed me. I watched his eyes rake up and down my form, and it took all I had to bury my smirk. He was right where I wanted him, and I loved giving him the appearance of control. It was going to drive him insane when he figured out who was actually pulling the strings in this situation.

It would drive him mad.

“The view is beautiful,” I said.

“It’s my second favorite view in the city,” he said.

“What in the world is your first one?” I asked.

“I’m looking at her.”

I turned and looked into his bright blue eyes and I faked my smile. Did he really think that line was going to work on me? Man, I hoped and prayed he had better game than that. Otherwise this beachfront condo was not being put to good use.

“Another glass of wine?” Chris asked.

“Don’t mind if I do.”

He led me into his condo and I tried not to gawk too much. It was a beautiful sight to behold. The furniture was plush and the countertops were a beautiful light granite. I could hear the ocean beating against the sand as he slipped another glass of wine into my hand. I felt his touch descend to the small of my back and I had to take a deep breath.

I couldn’t let myself get carried away. No matter how good it felt.

“Would you like to see the upstairs?” Chris asked.

“Does it have as good of a view as the first story?” I asked.

“The best view in the house.”

“Then lead the way.”

He led me up the steps, his hand melding into the curvature of my waist. He was cozying up to me, just like I thought he would. I sipped on my second glass of wine as we turned the corner, and I found myself looking into a very expansive loft area. The only part of the room that was cordoned off by walls was behind us, and the only thing I figured it could be was the bathroom.

The floor-to-ceiling walls his king-sized bed sat beside looked out over the ocean. The nighttime sky hung heavy with the stars that twinkled out in the distance. It really was a breathtaking view, and I allowed myself to slip into it. I allowed myself the freedom to walk up to the windows, place my hand against it, and act as if I was plucking the stars straight from the sky.

Like Chris had promised me when we were younger.

“Told you it had the best view,” I said.

But I caught his eyes in the window and saw him staring at my ass.

I sat on the edge of his bed and stared out over the ocean. He plucked my empty wine glass from between my fingers, then settled his hand onto my knee. He was massaging it, sending electrical spikes up my leg that I tried to ignore. His touch was hot and our bodies were close, the twinkling of the stars he had promised me hypnotizing. I felt my body heating up as his hand threaded around my waist, then his finger crooked underneath my chin. My head was on a swivel, moving at his beck and call until my eyes were gazing into his.

“It’s good to see you again,” Chris said.

Then, his lips descended onto mine.